


Conservation for Beginners

by Aneiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Conservation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Islands, Isolation, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Smut, basically they are both hurting and take care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: Hermione Granger didn't think twice about taking guardianship of Hoddholm Island for the summer. A deserted, peaceful island among the endangered Golden Snidgets is just what she needs to escape the anxieties that the end of the war brought with it.When Draco Malfoy arrives as the other guardian and they are left to themselves for a month, they both seem to be struggling in their own ways. Can they be there for each other when they most need it?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 34
Kudos: 252
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	Conservation for Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and thanks for coming along to read this fic! I hope it gives some respite in the troubled times we find ourselves in. 
> 
> Please be aware that this fic deals with mental health issues, including PTSD, panic attacks and nightmares - it's set post-war and both Hermione and Draco are struggling to come to terms with what happened and moving on with their lives. If you think this may be triggering, and especially if you're feeling anxious with self-isolation or illness at the moment, please be careful and kind to yourselves. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my wonderful beta, Debo (on Tumblr as Crazyconglasses), for all the support and guidance on this :)

HERMIONE PULLED HER red and gold scarf closer around her neck as the little boat approached the island. It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but it was always colder on the open sea, even with the warming charm Hermione had cast on herself.

Seeing the island fast approach, Hermione tucked her book back into her bag. The lighthouse towered above the land, a beacon of white stone against the blue sky in the daylight. The island of Hoddholm itself was otherwise abandoned, Hermione knew, except for the seabirds and the magical creatures that inhabited it.

The creatures were why Hermione was here, of all places. One of Wales’ most remote islands, barely three-square kilometres big, and its lighthouse infused with a powerful Muggle-repellent charm, Hoddholm was a mating ground for the endangered Golden Snidget. For one month every summer, the Snidgets arrived, paired up, laid eggs and raised their young on the island.

Hermione had gotten her N.E.W.T in Care of Magical Creatures in the end, thinking in eighth year that she might want to join the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Surviving post-war had been more difficult than Hermione had anticipated, however, and she found herself battling with anxiety and post-traumatic stress on a daily basis. Too much to even consider a regular career straight after school.

When she finished her N.E.W.T.s – with Outstandings in all of them, of course – Hermione had seen the tiny advertisement tucked into the back of the Daily Prophet looking for summer guardians on Hoddholm and sent off an application without hesitation.

A whole month, in the peace and quiet of this enchanted island, living in the lighthouse and observing the Golden Snidgets, making sure they were safe. Hermione couldn’t have asked for a better interlude between Hogwarts and facing the real world once again.

The charmed boat docked in a natural inlet, and Hermione drew her wand and with a wordless flick levitated her two trunks and her bag to follow her off the boat, across the sandy spit of beach, and up the twisting path to the lighthouse.

Away from the sea, the wind chill dropped slightly and Hermione breathed in the fresh air, letting the smell of sea salt and wild grass fill her lungs. A flash of gold darted past her, making her stop in her tracks.

Her first sighting of a Golden Snidget!

A smile curled on her lips as the tiny golden bird flashed past her a few more times, and then Hermione continued her lonely trek up to the lighthouse.

The door was stiff when she pushed it open, the interior of the building dusty and dark. Clearly she was the first one here, and not for the first time she wondered who her partner would be for the guardianship of Hoddholm.

There were a number of remote, magical island reserves around Britain, and Hermione knew that each one mandated that two people served as guardians at any one time. Between the Muggle-repelling charms and the anti-Apparition wards that protected them, it was far too dangerous to let witches and wizards live alone at the reserves.

Hermione wasn’t too bothered. One person was infinitely better than hundreds, and she doubted any witch or wizard who signed up for a post like this one would be a gregarious, demanding companion. She had high hopes of a month of comfortable silences, reading books by lantern-light, and long solo walks with her journal to track the Golden Snidgets every day.

Hermione walked all the way to the top of the lighthouse, stopping as she did to put her luggage in one of the empty bedrooms, and when she reached the beacon she stepped out onto the tiny balcony, leaning on the railing and surveying the confines of her new home below her.

The island stretched green on all sides, and beyond that, the endless blue-grey expanse of the sea. Already her charmed boat had disappeared from the inlet, returning to the mainland, and as she watched the direction it had gone she saw another small boat heading her way.

With a last look around, Hermione made her way downstairs to greet her fellow guardian.

BY THE TIME the second boat had landed, Hermione had magically packed away most of her things and had set the kettle to boil on the old Aga. Two mismatched mugs sat on the side ready to make tea, and Hermione had unearthed a ginger cake that had been included in their massive pantry of supplies for the summer.

She made her way outside, her scarf still wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chill of the wind, and stood awkwardly waiting for the other guardian to appear over the grassy knoll that led up from the beach.

Once again she wondered who it could be. Another soul looking to escape the memories of war, perhaps? Or just someone with a keen love for magical creatures?

Hermione smiled for a moment, briefly imaging Hagrid turning up to guard the island. She would be sure to visit him when this summer was over, to tell him everything she learned about the Golden Snidgets. Although, she thought fondly to herself, they were probably neither big enough nor dangerous enough to hold Hagrid’s attention for too long.

From inside the lighthouse kitchen the kettle whistled as it boiled, and Hermione swished her wand to pour water and milk onto the tea leaves in the mugs, levitating them out when they were done and taking them both in her hands. As she gripped the handles of both cups, she caught her breath as a wizard started to appear from the direction of the boat.

In the bright summer sun, his hair seemed almost silver, but Hermione brushed it off as a trick of the light. As he got closer, however, Hermione felt her heart flutter uncomfortably and her stomach tense. It couldn’t be him, could it? Why would he be here of all places?

She gulped as the wizard came to a stop in front of her, a slight frown on his face, his silver eyes unreadable. With a wave of his wand his trunk fell to the ground next to him, and he brushed a hand through the pale gold of his hair.

Neither of them spoke, and then Hermione reached forward and offered Draco Malfoy a mug of tea.

THERE WAS AN old, weathered bench by the door of the lighthouse, and Hermione and Draco sat on it, silent and shoulder to shoulder, drinking their tea and looking out over the island. Draco was the first one to finally speak.

‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here, really,’ he said quietly, his voice free of judgement or malice. ‘I figured it was likely to be someone else trying to forget the war who’d volunteer for a summer so isolated.’

Hermione hummed in agreement, and took another sip of her tea.

‘I’m surprised you’re here at all, to be honest,’ she admitted. ‘I would have thought the Malfoys had plenty of properties to escape to if you needed a break, probably somewhere warmer and with more culture than an uninhabited island off the coast of Wales.’

Draco leaned against the back of the bench, cradling his half-drunk mug of tea against the soft green wool of his jumper. He finally turned his head slightly to look at her, and Hermione steeled herself to keep eye contact with him.

They weren’t exactly enemies anymore. They’d both been at Hogwarts for that extra eighth year, had even partnered on a couple of projects.

They weren’t exactly friends, either. Draco had approached her towards the end of the year to offer her a stiff apology for all that had passed between them before, and grateful to move forward with her life, Hermione had accepted it.

‘I don’t intend ever going back to a Malfoy property,’ Draco admitted, his voice so low Hermione had to strain to hear it.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ she asked in surprise.

Draco put his mug on the arm of the bench and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His blond hair ruffled in the slight wind, and Hermione caught herself wondering if it would be as soft to touch as it looked. She shook her head slightly as if to clear the errant thought from her mind, and concentrated instead on Draco’s reply.

‘Being a Malfoy has done me no favours, Hermione. I’ve grown up entitled and arrogant, and I have no interest in being that person anymore. I’m moving to Romania in the autumn, to work at the dragon reserve there. Trying to do something more worthwhile with my life.’

As he finished talking Draco slumped back against the bench once more, his hands lying loose on his knees as he did. Hermione reached down and placed her hand on top of his, squeezing his hand quickly and then pulling it away again. Draco looked up at her, surprise apparent in his eyes, and she smiled sadly at him.

‘I’m proud of you, Draco,’ was all she said.

THAT FIRST AFTERNOON went by fast. After they’d fully unpacked their things and explored the pantry and the kitchen, they wandered to explore the small garden and woodshed that accompanied the lighthouse.

Draco found the woodaxe and chopped them some firewood, pulling off his jumper and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before getting to work. Hermione, meanwhile, wandered the small herb garden and slowly picked a selection of ingredients that could be used in cooking or potion-making over the next few weeks.

By the time evening fell, the night still light and the Golden Snidgets singing and flitting around catching insects, they made supper in the kitchen and took their bowls back out onto the bench to watch the sun set slowly over their island.

IT WAS MUCH later in the night when Hermione was pulled from sleep by someone screaming her name in terror. Heart beating furiously, she was leaping out of bed with her wand in her hand before she was even really awake, her war-torn reflexes still constantly on the alert.

By the time she had wrenched the door to her bedroom open, she had remembered where she was. By the time she darted across the hall to Draco’s rooms, where the screams of her name had collapsed into heart-rending sobs, she had remembered who she was there with. By the time she reached his bed, where his eyes were screwed shut in sleep, his fists clenched in the sheets that were twisted around his body, she knew he was having a nightmare.

He didn’t wake up, tossing back and forth instead, seemingly fighting against something in his sleep. Hermione cast a gentle calming charm over him, and as his sobs slowly stopped and his chest heaved as he gasped for breath instead, she felt her Gryffindor spirit flare within her.

She was brave and did what her heart told her was right even if it was scary. She lifted the sheets and crawled into bed with Draco, bundling him up in her arms, stroking his hair that was damp with sweat.

‘You’re safe, Draco,’ she murmured softly as she held him closer. ‘I’m safe. We’re going to be okay. We survived.’

Instinctively he reached for her too, his face nestling against her neck and his arms clutching at her around her waist. He sighed in his sleep, and gradually his breathing evened out once again as his nightmares disappeared.

Closing her eyes, Hermione relished the safe, solid warmth of another body against hers and followed Draco into a deep sleep.

HERMIONE WOKE UP first the next morning as the sun’s rays gently lit up Draco’s room. Draco was still in her arms, his nose pressed against her neck and his hand resting on her hip. Hermione reached down to carefully lift his arm from her body, planning on sneaking out as quietly as she could, but when she touched his skin his face pulled away from her and his silver eyes rested on hers. For a split second she saw confusion in his gaze, but it quickly melted away into horror.

‘Hermione,’ he breathed out in disbelief, realising what had happened. ‘Gods, I’m so sorry. The nightmares… I usually silence my room. I completely forgot…’

She shook her head as he unwrapped his arms from around her.

‘It’s okay, Draco. I understand.’ She gave him a small smile and got out of bed, picking up her wand that was laying on his bedside table. ‘I’ll put some tea on, you come through whenever you’re ready.’

AFTER BREAKFAST, HERMIONE packed her bag with her notebook, a jumper, some water and some snacks, and head out to look for Golden Snidgets. Draco stayed behind, a cup of tea and a novel in hand, sitting in the garden under the summer sun. She caught him watching her thoughtfully as she walked off, his gaze making her stomach twist in a not unpleasant kind of way.

Hermione sat on one of the grassy outcrops overlooking the sea, charming her hair into a high bun so the wind couldn’t whip it around her head. She spent the morning sketching the Golden Snidgets, and then the afternoon munching on the oatcakes she’d packed and drinking tea from her charmed thermos.

When she finally hiked back to the lighthouse, Draco had finished making supper. He wordlessly handed her a plate of food, his fingers brushing against hers when she took it from him. He caught her eye and smiled.

The next few nights were peaceful, and no screams woke Hermione from her sleep. Although, looking at the purple bruises beneath Draco’s silver eyes, she was fairly sure that was because he was silencing his room rather than because the nightmares had stopped.

They carried on with their quiet existence, moving around each other with a practiced ease and fluidity. Hermione knew how Draco took his tea, and he knew how she liked her food seasoned. Their eyes caught often, across the garden, across the kitchen, across the books they read. They smiled, and turned back, and seldom spoke.

Towards the end of the week they went out for a walk, patrolling the perimeter of the island together, pointing out the odd fin of a dolphin out to sea, and making notes of the Snidget nesting sites they found.

It was as they were heading back home that it happened.

The wind shifted, and Hermione fell to her knees, gasping for breath. Her mind started to swim as she realised what was happening, and tears started to fall. She didn’t have panic attacks often, but they were a common enough occurrence.

Draco carried on a few more steps before realising something was wrong, and she saw him stop and turn in confusion, before his eyes widened and he dropped to his knees before her. He reached out for her, then caught himself.

‘Hermione,’ he said, his voice calm and quiet. ‘Look at me. You’re safe. Breathe with me, Hermione.’

She tried to follow him as he exaggerated breathing in and out in slow, steady breaths. Her own breath was panicked and erratic, her hands shaking. She was clawing for lucidity, but the overwhelming panic and adrenaline were flooding her system too much for her to gain any control.

Instead she focused as well as she could on the gift Draco was giving her, his acknowledgement of her pain and his refusal to abandon her to it. She struggled to breathe when he did, locking her eyes on his and letting him guide her through the fog.

‘That’s it, Hermione,’ he encouraged as her breaths started to even out a little. She reached out for him and he took her hand in his, holding it firmly as he sat with her in the grass. Long moments stretched between them as Hermione’s sobs receded and her breathing finally evened out again.

‘Thank you,’ she gasped when she could finally speak again.

Draco squeezed her hand in understanding and then helped her to her feet. He didn’t say anything else.

HERMIONE LAY IN bed later that night, staring blindly up at the ceiling as sleep eluded her. She was still feeling anxious after her panic attack earlier on, and exhausted. Too tired to sleep, apparently.

With a sigh she got out of bed and padded quietly across the room and out into the hallway. She hesitated only a second outside Draco’s room before she gently rapped her knuckles on his door.

The door opened under her hand and she entered his room, shrouded in shadows, and saw him half-raised up under his covers, watching her with interest. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping either.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

‘You okay?’ he asked in concern.

She nodded.

‘Yeah, I just… can I sleep here tonight?’ she blurted out.

He eyed her warily.

‘I just don’t want to feel so alone,’ she admitted in a whisper.

Draco’s face softened in the darkness and he held the sheets up for her. She climbed gratefully into his arms, shifting against him and sighing in relief. He tucked the sheet around them and positioned her so he could cradle her back to his body.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Draco asked, his words warm against her hair. Hermione shook her head, and his arms around her tightened.

They had both been broken by the war. It was enough to be near someone who understood.

IT BECAME THEIR unspoken routine. Hermione woke first, made tea and breakfast that they ate out on the bench, then she would pack her bag and spend the day out on the island while Draco pottered about the lighthouse, tending the garden and working his way through what seemed an entire library of novels, both magical and muggle.

Draco made them supper in the evening once she’d returned, and they’d sit outside as the late summer twilight fell and the Snidgets flitted around eating the insects that came out in the evening.

And then when darkness fell completely and they went inside, Hermione would crawl into Draco’s bed and they’d fall asleep wrapped in the comfort of each other’s embrace.

It was inevitable that it happened, really.

One night, the moon just bright enough outside the window to gently illuminate their room, Hermione slowly woke from sleep. Unsure what had disturbed her, she carefully rolled over in Draco’s arms to face him, and was shocked to find him wide awake, his eyes open, watching her intently in the moonlight.

They lay in silence, watching one another. Draco’s arms were still around her waist, and hers were resting on his chest. Carefully, slowly, Draco lifted one of his arms and trailed his fingers along her neck, brushing her hair back from her face and over her shoulder, resting his hand on the back of her neck. His fingers stroked the skin there.

Hermione let her hands open against his chest, and she ran her palms over his skin, sliding up over his shoulder and curling around his head and into his soft hair. Draco’s eyes darkened slightly in the moonlight.

‘Hermione,’ he breathed her name, shifting his body slightly so the gap between their faces closed and their noses brushed.

‘Draco,’ she whispered in reply, not sure if she was giving him permission or absolution.

Their lips met for the first time, and Hermione was engulfed by the sweetness of him. His lips parted beneath hers and she mirrored his movements, letting him taste her teeth and tongue as she tightened her fingers in his hair.

He finally pulled away from her so he could kiss her neck and gently bite her earlobe, his hand still pressed firmly against the back of her neck, his fingers locked into her hair.

Hermione moaned with pleasure and let her hands roam down to his hips, trailing the bare skin of his stomach above his pyjama bottoms and then gripping his hips and pulling his body closer into hers.

She wanted him, desperately, and the hardness that pressed against her thigh made it obvious that Draco felt the same. She reached down and gripped him through his pyjamas, making him stifle a groan into her neck.

‘I want you so bad,’ he muttered, releasing his hand from her hair and settling it instead on her hip.

His own hips rolled against her hand. She hummed in response and took his hand, guiding him under the waistband of her sleep shorts. Draco closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers as his fingers found her, sliding into her easily. He tried to thrust them further in but growled in frustration as the angle and the snarl of pyjamas and bedclothes trapped him.

Hermione reached behind her for her wand, and wordlessly vanished their pyjamas, leaving them naked against each other, Draco’s fingers slipping deep inside her. Stifling a groan, Hermione quickly cast the contraceptive charm before tossing her wand onto the bed, reaching down to where Draco was hard and straining. Draco covered her mouth with his, kissing her while curling his fingers inside her and pressing against her so she arched into him.

‘Don’t make me wait,’ she begged, tightening her grip on him.

Draco’s fingers slid out of her and he rolled her onto her back, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of her shoulders. For a moment he just stayed there, holding his body over hers, watching her in the darkness. He leaned down to kiss her, slowly and sweetly, and she reached again for the hard length of him, making him gasp into her mouth.

Pulling him down closer to her, she guided him to her entrance, and with a single thrust he buried himself into her completely.

Draco paused then, trembling above her, and Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips and reached up to curl her fingers in his hair, wanting to be as close to him as possible. He kissed her again, more urgently this time, and started to thrust into her.

Draco shifted his weight onto one side and with his other hand reached down to where they were joined. Not stopping his rhythm of fucking her, he found her clit and started rubbing her in time with his thrusts, dropping down to kiss and gently bite her neck when she fell back against the bed, a whimper on her lips.

He carried on stroking her and rocking into her, trailing his lips down her throat and then to her breasts, licking her nipple with a flick of his tongue before taking it in his mouth, suckling eagerly at her.

Hermione felt her toes start to curl in response to his worship of her body, and her fingers in his hair tightened as she felt the delightful build-up of pressure in her core. The pressure of his fingers increased and she let out a helpless sob as she teetered on the edge.

Draco pulled his mouth away from her breast, looking up at her with his dark silver eyes.

‘You can let go, Hermione,’ he managed to whisper, his voice tight as he thrust into her again and again. ‘I won’t let you fall. I’ll never let you fall.’

Hermione sobbed again and then cried out as she came, a blissful explosion of white noise overtaking her mind.

As she drifted down from her high, she was aware that Draco had thrust once more into her and held himself there, shaking and sweating, as he followed her over the edge.

They held each other tightly, until Draco kissed her once more and gently pulled out of her. She pulled him down on top of her again, and he rest his body against hers, his head resting on the curves of her breast, his hand curled around her waist. He sighed happily against her skin and she kissed the top of his head.

Absolution, then, she thought to herself.

THINGS CONTINUED ALONG in their peaceful isolation. Now, when Hermione crawled into his bed in the night, they undressed each other in the dark, explored each other’s bodies and gave what comfort and control they could to each other.

Draco started joining Hermione on her daily walks, and one day they walked down to the small inlet where their boats had landed, investigating the rockpools there.

He found a starfish in one of the pools and fished it out to show her, and later she spotted a Murtlap scurrying around in the sand and grabbed his hand to get his attention and point to it. She didn’t let go of his hand after the Murtlap had disappeared, instead holding it tight as they continued scrambling over the rocks and peering into the deep pools.

‘What do you think you’ll do when you get back?’ Draco asked casually later on, as they sat on the rocky outcrop looking out over the dark blue sea.

Hermione shrugged.

‘I wanted to join the Ministry. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I want to make a difference, to help those that need it. I really do, but…’ she paused then, and leaned into Draco’s side, dropping her head on his shoulder. He placed his arm around her, holding her close.

‘But the Ministry is a busy place?’ he said.

She nodded against him, and they sat in silence as they watched the waves come rolling in.

‘YOU COULD COME with me, you know,’ Draco said one evening in their last week.

They were lying in his bed together, naked and with their limbs entangled. Draco was tracing lazy spirals onto Hermione’s back as she lay nestled against his chest.

‘To Romania?’ she asked thoughtfully.

‘Why not?’ he replied. He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘It will be quiet out there. Just us and a few dragons. And if you still want to join the Ministry, having field experience will only strengthen your application.’

Hermione mulled it over in her mind. It was true that the Ministry would see field experience as a positive thing if she were to eventually apply. She’d enjoyed the peace of Hoddholm, and she knew the dragon reserve in Romania was similarly remote. Charlie Weasley was still working there, and the dragonologist friends of his she’d met before had been similarly taciturn and calm.

The thought of having more time to spend with Draco Malfoy, away from prying eyes and gossiping tongues, was also a very attractive proposition. She looked up at him, and found him watching her patiently.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ she asked, her voice serious.

If Draco was surprised by the forwardness of her question, he didn’t show it. Instead he pulled her up his body so he could kiss her.

‘I would love for you to come with me,’ he whispered, holding her close to him.

‘Then let’s be dragonologists,’ she said with a smile.

After all, they’d faced worse things than dragons on their lonely little island. And they might still be broken, but now they had each other.


End file.
